


Variations on a Friday Afternoon

by athousandwinds



Category: Sweeney Todd (movie)
Genre: F/M, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-21
Updated: 2011-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 22:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athousandwinds/pseuds/athousandwinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three ways to spend a Friday afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations on a Friday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubynye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/gifts).



Mrs Lovett was watching Mr Todd.

This was not unusual; she liked to watch a bit of Mr Todd, she did. Sometimes it was that high-arched nose, or his quick-fingered hands; sometimes he licked his lips when he was thinking of something - a woman, perhaps. Mrs Lovett, perhaps.

All men liked a bit of rumpy-pumpy, she'd noticed that. Mr Todd couldn't be so much different; he'd been at it with that wife of his at least three times a week. Mrs Lovett had always been so annoyed by Lucy Barker, smiling like that. She'd wanted to slap her face.

Mr Todd, now -

She did like a little challenge.

He did look at her breasts when she showed them to him, that was true enough. Not as much as some of her customers, when she had customers.

"Mr T," she said, pressing up against his arm. Her hand slid down over his waist and she rubbed his arse meaningfully.

Mr T skittered away so violently that she was rather offended.

"That round to you, Mistress Lucy," she said to herself.

  


* * *

  
The girl was fair. That had been the desire idly expressed to the Beadle, who could take a hint when one was waved in his face along with two banknotes. Her long hair was surprisingly clean when one saw it tumble over her pale shoulders. Perhaps the Beadle had had her washed beforehand; he was a considerate man.

"You're a very pretty girl," he said.

Colour stained her cheeks. "Thank yer, sir - "

"Hush."

The girl looked for a moment as if she wished to argue, then shut her mouth. Good. He did not want a headstrong girl. The women he liked were fragile creatures, who spoke in soft, low voices that curled round one's heart like ivy.

The girl lay docile upon the bed and he clambered onto her. She parted her legs obediently for him - too obediently, one liked to feel as if one had achieved a victory - and he entered her with a rough thrust. Her yelp was sharp and jarring.

"Good girls should be seen and not heard," he said reprovingly.

The girl was trembling violently, and it was only when he looked down that he realised that she had been a virgin, or close enough. He hadn't thought there was a single one left in Cheapside. He stroked her breast, but it did not seem to calm her; finally, resigned, he carried on. Her anguished whimpering wasn't even quieted when he planted his hand over her mouth, but it added a fillip to his lust. Lucy had made muffled cries against his palm as he made love to her; he had not wanted to disturb his guests. They were the noises of a woman provoked to passion against her will.

Beneath him, the girl was pushing against his chest in a rather charming show of maidenly reluctance. It reminded him greatly of Johanna, with the red discolouring her face and her desire to sit away from him lest he inflame her. Ah, once Johanna had been content to sit in his lap -

He spent himself in the girl and pulled out. She was watching him warily, unsure of his intentions.

"You can leave," he said, nodding at the door.

"Oh, thank yer, sir," she whispered, snatching up her clothes and rushing to the door without dressing. Her timidity was like Johanna's, he thought, and felt his yard stir with interest. But it was too late; he was already spent tonight. Johanna was at home, if he wished to look upon her likeness.

He did up his trousers and donned his jacket; his overcoat he hung over one arm. Friday evenings with Johanna sitting meekly on the sofa might be the greatest delight of a gentleman's life.

  


* * *

  
Johanna didn't quite know what she'd expected, but surely something more unpleasant than this. Her guardian had catalogued the curve of her breasts and the line of her calves, tracked it under her clothing every time he looked at her. Anthony seemed as if it were all new to him, as if she were some secret box of delights he'd never quite dreamt he would have.

" _Oh_ ," she said, jerking beneath Anthony, who looked rather startled.

"Was that - "

"Yes," she said breathlessly.

He thought that this was her bedroom; he was floored at the size and sumptuousness of it. It was here that she'd locked the door; it was here that she'd kissed him. It was the only truly private room in the house.

"Kiss me," she said, and when he hesitated, she pulled his head down to hers.

"Johanna," he mumbled into her mouth, and gasped sharply as she unbuttoned his trousers. Her guardian's study had had many books, the kind that he read in the evenings when he kept looking over at her and smiling. They'd frightened her; Anthony didn't.

They manoeuvred it - well, _it_ \- into what felt roughly like the right place and Anthony pushed in. Johanna gritted her teeth to keep from screaming; he was too hard and he _hurt_ , and she dug her fingers into his buttocks so deeply that Anthony whimpered. There was blood, she knew, some of the books had detailed it with a loving eye; besides, she could feel it dripping onto her guardian's bedsheets. Her hand slapped at the duvet; it was such a big bed, where no one could see you, no one at all. She could cry out into it, no one would hear her; she would never have to perform for anybody ever again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Anthony babbled, and Johanna slid her fingers into his hair.

"Harder," she said, her voice low and fierce. "Do it harder."

He obeyed, and Johanna's breaths became choppy, catching as he moved inside her. It hurt badly, but she rolled with each pumping motion of his hips, clenching round his yard with a savage joy. It was over too soon, with his semen spilling over. He tried to pull out, perhaps thinking to save her a measure of pennyroyal, but he only succeeded in splashing white semen over her belly and the sheets, staining them.

Johanna let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"I love you," Anthony whispered.

Johanna passed a hand over the tainted sheets. He'd helped her vandalise her guardian's property, had done it gladly.

"I love you, too," she said.


End file.
